Barely a Dream
by luckyynumber13
Summary: Amnesia gave Cammie a whole new life, what happens when Zach makes an appearance in it? *The first couple of chapters have been edited so they are more consistant with the rest of the story. Go back and read if you want to.
1. Snowball

I sat on the old porch swing outside my aging townhouse, slowly rocking my baby girl to sleep. She was almost four now, and getting smarter every day. I have no idea where she gets it from, I can't seem to hold a train fo thought for more than a couple minutes and her father certainly was no genius.

She's already started to ask questions about where her dad went, but I have no idea what to tell her. I could never tell her the truth, that he ran off with a stripper the day after her first birthday. Maybe someday, but certainly not now. She's still just a baby after all, even if she seems twice that, much to my disdain. Sometimes I think my little Morgan is already slipping away from me.

I wish I remembered my childhood, but most of it just goes by in a great big blur. What I do remember about my past comes in short spurts, each memory leaving me more confused.

Whatever my past was like, I'm sure it was better than the life I'm living now. I never got a college degree, so I'm an uneducated single mother with a dead-end job and a decrepit house in need of mortgage payments. I'm only twenty two, but my mind is so fuzzy, I might as well be ninety. Sometimes it seems that Morgan is the only good thing in my life, but I know better than that. My job pays the rent, which is a miracle in it's self, and we have food on the table every night.

"Hey Cams are you out here?" My best friend and roommate, Erica, yelled through the window.

"Shhh. Hey Ricky, not that I don't love that you're living in our house or anything, but could you keep it down while Morgan's sleeping?" I whispered back. Morgan had sleep issues. I had taken her to the doctor several times, but he could never find a reason for her inability to stay asleep. She had had problems with it ever since she was born. I can tell she has nightmares because of the way she whimpers late at night, but she could never remember them when she woke up. I worry about it almost constantly but I know that there is nothing I can do for her in our current financial state.

"Sorry Cam. Come in soon though, it's going to storm tonight." She whispered back, closing the tattered blinds.

I sighed as I scooped up my unconscious daughter and carried her to her room. There were four people living in our house at the moment, the two of us included, but I insisted that she should have her own room until she was older. The others agreed, if not grudgingly.

Erica and I shared the room directly across from Morgan so that I could be there if she had a nightmare. Bernadette slept on the pull-out couch in the living room. She was the newest addition to our family, so I didn't know her too well yet. As far as I knew, she was okay with the arrangement. She liked to keep to herself. I got the brunt of the payments because I had a 'hitchhiker' with me, and because the house was technically mine, but the other two made up for it in housework. It was a pretty sweet deal.

After Morgan was tucked in for the night I went downstairs to fix myself some dinner. I worked long hours on most days so I could have the weekends to spend with Morgan, but the long hours also meant a limited amount of time for food. I made it to the fridge and blacked out.

* * *

><p><em>It was the day before Christmas break started and I was lonely. The meaner girls in my class had been making fun of me again because I didn't have a dad, my mom said it was because they were jealous, but I didn't see anything to be jealous of. The fact was that they had two parents and I had one, and while my mom loved me, she was always on missions so I had to stay with Aunt Abby. I couldn't wait to go to Gallagher. I knew that no one there would make fun of me for being a little ahead in school, or for blending in a little too well, or even for having one parent, because there these things weren't weird or different, they were a way of life.<em>

One more year. _I thought ruefully, wishing it was now._

_A snowball hitting me in the back snapped me away from my thoughts, I spun around, ready to give the snowball's owner a piece of my mind, but what I saw stopped me._

_There was a boy around my age, hand outstretched, smile on his face, looking completely charming. I knew he didn't go to my school, but something about him seemed much too familiar for him to be a stranger._

_"Hi." He said._

_"Hi." I replied._

_"They make fun of me too." He said," But don't listen to them. They're full of crap, they're just jealous because you're prettier than they are."_

_I was too shocked to say anything back, he had called me pretty. And he had said that they make fun of him too. And he had called me pretty!_

_"You shouldn't say crap." I said, not thinking of anything better to say._

_"But you just said It." he smirked, a tease in his eyes._

_"Yeah but you said it first, you're being a bad influence on me." I teased him, smiling until I remembered my missing tooth and closed my mouth again._

_"Oh, then I should go, wouldn't want to be a bad influence on anyone." He smirked again, and turned to leave._

_"Wait!" I said, picking up a snowball and hitting him in the head with it. "You can't leave yet."_

_"Why not?" He asked me, turning around._

_"Because I think you might just be my best friend." I blushed._

_He smiled, grabbing my hand and walking away, me in tow._

* * *

><p>When I came to I was leaning against the counter in an awkward position, clutching a butter knife in my left hand. The flashbacks have been occurring more and more frequently as my twenty third birthday came closer. It was like this in the beginning, right when I met Morgan's father, I would just black out at random intervals for random amounts of time. The doctor said it was just a symptom of an old head injury and would cease with time, but they've been getting worse again and I didn't know what to make of them.<p>

They were actually really frustrating, considering I didn't remember half of the people in most of them, but I managed not to dwell on them too frequently. What irritated me the most was this boy; there was something about him that kept tugging on the edge of my consciousness, like a half remembered dream crying out to be heard. He was in the most flashbacks. I wished I could remember his name.

"Trevor." I said, trying the name on for size, but it didn't fit. "Patrick?" I shook my head sadly as I righted myself and poured a glass of orange juice.

I had just put the glass to my lips when I heard the voice.

"Could you pour me one of those Gallagher Girl? I'm parched."


	2. Charm

"Who are you? How did you get in here?" I asked, trying to keep my panic at bay. I tried to think back to the self-defense class I had taken a couple of months ago. Were you supposed to hit them in the nose or the eye? Did it matter how tall he was?

"Cam, it's me, I found you." The stranger said, his mouth forming a casual smirk.

"How do you know my name? I've never even seen you before." I said, taking a step back with each word.

"Come on, Gallagher Girl" He said, "I know you remember me."

"No, there's nothing to remember. And stop calling me that, what does it mean anyway?" I said, I had reached the wall, I had nowhere to go.

"You don't remember Gallagher." He ran his fingers through his shaggy hair. "What happened Cammie?"

"Nothing happened! I've never met you before, I don't know what 'Gallagher' is, and I don't want a strange man in the house where my daughter is sleeping!" I said, tears starting to form in my eyes.

"Daughter?" He asked, unable to hide the hurt in his eyes, "Who's the father?"

"That's none of your business. Now get out of my house!" I said, chucking the butter knife I was holding so it flew directly at him. It would have made it if it hadn't been for his hand grabbing onto the handle at an inhumanly fast speed.

He looked at the knife in disbelief, then shook his head and looked back at me. "I'll be on my way then." He whispered, turning to leave.

"Wait." I said, he looked back and I saw something in his eyes, a dark gleam that was oddly familliar, "If I really did know you, why haven't I seen you for all these years?"

"Things were... complicated." He said, his hand on the door knob. "It wasn't safe. No one knows exactly what happpened."

I gsaped, feeling something click in my mind.

* * *

><p><em>I sat on my bed, staring at the pictures of my recently lost family, wondering what could have been if it hadn't been for the family business. Would it have been my dad teaching me how to drive instead of my grandpa? Would it have been <em>my_ mom picking out the cake for my birthday instead of Bex's?_

_"They really loved you." Aunt Abby entered the room, sitting down on the bed next to me. "I hope you know that.''_

_"If they loved me all that much, why'd they leave?" I muttered bitterly, knowing I wasn't being fair._

_"It's not like they meant to squirt." Abby said, frowning at me. _

_"I know." I sighed, running my fingers over my charm bracelet for the thousandth time that day, pausing on the latest addition. Abby's eyes followed my fingers and a sad smile reached her lips._

_"You're lucky to have him you know." She said, pausing for a while before adding, "Speak of the devil."_

_"What are you talking about?" I said, Abby opened her mouth to answer but stopped herself, instead standing up and tip-toeing out of my room._

_I shook my head in disbelief, laying my head back down on my pillow, hoping for sleep to come. Unfortunately, a certain boy I knew seemed to have other ideas._

_"What happened?" He said, landing lightly on the floor beneath my window despite being at least one hundred and fifty pounds._

_"She was on a mission, no one knows what happened." I said, looking anywhere but him._

* * *

><p>"Someone knows." I whispered to myself, returning to the present.<p>

"What did you say?" The man in front of me said, rushing forward so he could look me in the eye.

"Someone knows." I said, getting a touch of deja vu as the words left my mouth.

"Yeah, they do." A smile, a real smile, threatened to take over his face as he looked at me.

"What?" I said suddenly self conscious.

"I'll tell you tomorrow." He replied.

"But-" I started, but he was already gone


	3. Cake

"Candace, get out here NOW!" My manager barked at me, failing to realise that I was on my break.

"My name is Cammie! I'm not on duty for another ten minutes!" I yelled back, not in the mood to be screamed at.

OJ guy, the nickname I've decided to give the man that broke into my house a couple nights ago, never did follow up on seeing me the next day. I kept wondering if something had happened to him, but then I realized that I really shouldn't care. After all, he broke into my house and for all I know he could be a serial killer or a rapist.

But the thing is, he didn't seem like a serial killer, he seemed... familiar. He almost seemed like someone I would have been friends with.

"I don't care what your name is if you don't get out there and start doing what I hired you for!" The managing nazi, as I've taken to calling him, snapped at me.

I sighed, really not wanting to work today, but got up and dragged my lazy rump out of the break room anyway.

"What are you wearing?" He scoffed at me; I looked at him in disbelief.

"My uniform?" It came out as a question.

"Not anymore it isn't." He said, practically dragging me back into the break room. "The new owner thinks we need to step up our game, here is your new uniform." He pulled out an outfit that involved a _very _low top and some _very _short shorts.

"You're kidding me, right?" I asked, not as taken with the new uniform as he seemed to be.

"No, why?" He said, thourally enjoying himself.

"Because I'm a mother, not a prostitute." I scoffed at him.

"Well you're also a waitress and if you want to continue this job, I suggest you get changed." He said, leaving me there to dispose of my remaining dignity.

I stood there for a while deciding whether or not it was worth it, after all, I brought Morgan to work with me sometimes and I didn't want her to grow up thinking it was okay to dress like that. After a while I made up my mind, stormed out of the break room and said to my manager, "Wear your own uniform," and left the restaurant, creating a very dramatic effect.

I was feeling pretty proud of myself as I walked home, I hated my job, the only reason I put up with all the crap there was so that I could pay the bills, but I guess I could find another job, with an actual human being as my boss.

As I walked through the door I could tell something was off, you could call it maternal instincts, or the fact that Erica wasn't there to greet me, but something felt _wrong. _

"Ricky?" I called, hoping she just didn't hear the door, "Morgan?"

I listened for awhile, my call answered only by Bernadette's pet hampster, who started climbing the walls of his cage.

"Erica!" I screamed, running through the house, I was getting that feeling...

* * *

><p><em>It was the best kind of day, the sun was shining, a light breeze ruffled my hair and one of my best friends was walking beside me. The only thing that could have made it better was a slice of cake, which we were going to get right now.<em>

_"You know Gallagher Girl, I really don't think you need that piece of cake," He said, smirking at me, "I mean, you're what now, ninety pounds? That's really pushing it."_

_"Says the one hundred and fifty pound giant. Besides I'll probably burn twice as much as that piece of cake in P&E tomorrow, unlike some slackers..." I replied, smiling at him provocatively._

_"Slacker, huh?" He said, an evil grin sneaking onto his face, "Alright then, how about this, we race to your house, first one there gets both pieces of cake, the other one gets to sit and watch."_

_"You're on porky," I said, slapping his gut with the back of my hand before taking off._

_I could hear his amused snort from my two yard lead, but chances were he would soon catch up. When he wanted something, he wanted it bad._

_"Yes!" I called out in victory as I crossed the threshold of my house. "Better get your reading glasses Blackthorne Boy, because I don't want you to miss a second of this."_

_"I let you win Gallagher Girl." He replied, his smirk plastered on his face, "After you eat all that, I'm sure to smoke you in P&E tomorrow."_

_"That's the sa-" I started, but my cocky tone was replaced with a scream of anguish, the sight in front of me robbing me of any happiness I might have felt that day. I sank to the floor, my fist in my mouth so I wouldn't start sobbing._

_"Cammie." My best friend wrapped his arms around me, shielding me from the image already trapped in my mind._

_We had just come home to my aunt dead on the floor._

* * *

><p>I came back to earth and started shaking. I had forgotten the day Abby died, sometimes amnesia was a blessing. Then I remembered what the boy had called me, <em>Gallagher Girl, <em>isn't that what the man in the kitchen had called me almost three nights ago? I needed some time to think, but I wasn't going to get it. The wall phone started ringing, demanding attention from an abusive owner. I walked over and picked up the receiver, expecting it to be Erica, but got someone else entirely.

"Thank god." I answered, my heart returning to its natural size.

"Hello, is this Cameron Morgan?" A monotone voice that was far from Erica's replied, I wondered if it was a recording.

"Yes, it is, how can I help you?" I said, the relief of two seconds earlier evaporating almost instantly.

"Ms. Morgan, this is Detective Fields, the head of the police department at the 204th street location, I'm calling you about some new informatoin concerning your daughter." She said, no emotion in her voice whatsoever.

"I don't understand." I said, my breath picking up.

"Morgan was kidnapped at 9:00 am this morning; your friend Erica filed the report." She replied, still monotone. "I thought you were informed."

I dropped the receiver, hearing the loud _clunk _it made as it hit the floor, but I didn't care, I felt numb.

_Now I really do have nothing. _I thought as I sank to the floor and started to sob.


	4. Spat

_"What's cracking Gallagher Girl?" A deep voice behind me made me jump. I scowled. I didn't get startled._

_"I told you not to call me that." I turned to glower at him, only to watch his already broad smile deepen._

_"I thought you liked it." He said, inching closer each step I backed away. "Or do you only like it when _he _says it."_

_I followed his gaze to a broad shouldered boy standing on the other side on the lawn. I couldn't help but smile as I watching him talk animatedly with our history teacher about who knows what, but when his eyes met mine, I looked away._

_"Oh, I forgot, you guys had a spat didn't you?" An entirely different boy smirked at me. I scowled again._

_"You really are a jerk." I said, hearing the venom in my own words." Who says spat anymore anyway? Oh wait, you do. The single most irritating being on the planet who, for some reason, feels obligated to taunt me about every aspect of my life! How do you know this stuff anyway? Have you been stalking me?"_

_His eyes narrowed and there was something different in his voice when he said, "Have I been stalking you. Wow Cams, I thought you knew me better than that."_

_"Know you? You want me to get to know you? I'd be more concerned with getting lost before I murder you." I turned to leave but added, "And you and I both know I don't make empty threats."_

* * *

><p>The first thing that registered when I woke up was that I was no longer on the floor. Good. The second was that I had no idea where my little girl was. Not so good.<p>

I got up from an unfamiliar couch and looked around for an unfamiliar door, and, being the genius I am, realized that I was in someone else's house, and it was really cold.

"Oh no you don't." A surprisingly strong hand pushed me back onto the couch, I looked into the steely blue eyes that stared back at me and tried to place where I knew them from. I stared in wonder as I recognized the gorgeous woman now forcing me into a sitting position.

"You're Macey McHenry!" I gasped, looking the now early-twenties style icon up and down. It was no wonder _People_ voted her most beautiful woman of the year last April. Her jet black hair cascaded down her back in a seemingly flawless way and her dark eyebrows framed her bright blue eyes perfectly. With her long legs and perfect figure, you could tell that she was built to be in the spotlight.

"Cammie, you don't remember me, do you?" She said, her steely resolve still in place.

"What do you mean? Everyone knows you." I said, frowning in confusion, "How do you know me?"

"Cammie, I know you must have a lot of questions, but you're recovering from shock, you need to rest." She spoke very slowly, as if I were a small child.

"Thank you for your concern, but I'm perfectly fine. I just need to find my daughter." I said, scanning the room as if she would magically appear if I just looked.

"Cammie, I don't know how to tell you this..." The beautiful girl in front of me trailed off, her confidence growing weak.

"But your daughter probably isn't... alive." A voice with a heavy British accent came from behind me.

"You're lying." I whispered, "She's out there. She needs me."

"Cam..."

"No! You're lying!" I said, breathing hard, "She's just lost, it's easy to get lost here, it's a big city, that's all. If I just go look for her..."

"Cammie."

"I can get a search party, you're an heiress, you have money, we can search the streets..." I started to ramble. I was falling apart, and everyone in the room could see it.

"Cameron!" The British one snapped, her voice controlled and authoritative, "You are so much stronger than this. This is not you."

"Bex..." Macey said, a quiet warning in her tone.

"The Cammie we knew would never act so useless. I know you don't know who we are, but we bloody well know who you are, so if you would just pull yourself together and _think,_ we might be able to get your daughter back."

"Rebecca!" Macey looked at her in disbelief, as if Bex had been insulting _her _instead of me.

"She's lost her common sense along with her memory, it's like it isn't even her anymore!" Bex defended herself, a fiery expressuib inching onto her face.

"Look, maybe you do know me, but that gives you no right to insult me openly and talk about me like I'm not here. I'm very sorry, but if you'll excuse me, I need to go find my daughter." I said, shakily getting up to leave.

"You really don't remember us, do you?" Bex said, her fire disappearing as suddenly as it had come, "We were only your best friends, after all."

I looked at the woman in front of me, the one claiming to be my best friend. She was trying to hide her emotions, but I could still see them raging in her mocha eyes. Hurt. Anger. Disgust. There was something else though... something deeper and more sincere. Love. She really cared about me. Maybe she _was _my best friend.

After a long moment, my thoughts snapped back to my daughter, alone and possibly hurt. Every second I was here I was wasting time, but maybe it'd be worth it if they helped me.

"I honestly can't remember you, I 'm so sorry, but I can't," I said, "But if I'm going to find my daughter, I'm going to need your help. Will you help me?"

"Of course, Cammie." A third person entered the room, she was smaller than the other two, more gentle, and very blond.

She spoke with a southern accent when she said, "We will _always _help you."


	5. His

"Where should we start?" I asked the small blond girl. I had found out that her name was Liz. She was the brain of the opperation. According to Macey she was a certified genius, even if her obvious clumsiness made it seem otherwise.

"Well, as soon as our gadget guy gets back from his assignment we can hack into the survelance feed from one of the stores surrounding your house, and then we can-"

"Hold on a second, what are we hacking into?" I said, embarrassed by how little of what she said I had actually understood.

"Hello ladies," A masculine voice called from the door, a voice I actually knew. "Sorry I'm late but the subject decided he wanted to take a trip to Puerto Rico, so I had to catch a plane. Who does that anyway? I wish I had time to go to Puerto Rico, you know, when I'm _not_ trailing some crazy rich kid."

"Cammie, this is Blake." Macey said, gesturing to said masculine figure with a careless flip of her hand.

"I'm pretty sure we've met." I said. "I didn't like you."

"Yeah, in eighth grade." He said, smirking slightly, "By tenth you were begging me to go out with you."

My mouth dropped in indignation. I looked to Macey for conformation, sighing in relief when she shook her head.

"I don't quite remember that," I said with a scowl, "but I do recall calling you a jerk."

"How can she remember _him _and not _us_?" Bex muttered ruefully to Macey.

"I'm sorry, I probably wouldn't have, but I had a flashback with him in it yesterday." I said, my cheeks flaring.

"Flashback?" Macey raised an eyebrow, stealing a sideways glance at Bex.

"Yeah, sometimes I remember things, just little flashes really, and I can't always tell when they're coming but when they do I usually black out..."

* * *

><p><em>I was sitting in a crowded room, but I couldn't have felt more alone. The family business had caused me to lose far more than I had ever bargained for, even my memory.<em>

_It had been two months since I left the hospital and every minute I lost another year of my life. What was my dad's first name again? Who did I go to homecoming with? Did I even go to homecoming? The doctor had tried to keep me longer when she realized that I was losing my memory, but I didn't listen. When I walked out of that clinic, I walked out on my old life, and everyone in it. Even Bex, Liz, Macey and... My hand fluttered to my slightly convex stomach, the other to the scar running down the better part of the left side of my body, ending just below my temple. I was already too far gone to ever go back._

_"Excuse me, is anyone sitting here?" A man about my age asked about the empty seat next to me._

_Was anyone?_

_"I'm not sure." I said, removing my hands and folding them on my lap._

_"How far along are you?" He gestured to my midsection, smiling a charming smile._

_I didn't remember, all I remembered about my baby is that it survived the accident, that was all that mattered. So I repeated my 'I'm not sure' and watched a knowing gleam come into the stranger's eyes._

_"I'm Daniel." He said, taking my hand, "Why don't we go for a walk."_

_I went._

* * *

><p>I gasped as I returned to the present, hands fluttering to my stomach, "She wasn't his." I whispered to myself, vaguely aware of the eyes watching me.<p>

"What was that Cams?" Bex said, only half into it.

"Did you guys know I was pregnant when I... erm... left?" I asked them, anticipating their answers with an anxious frown.

"Of course we did," Macey answered, "Actually, I think we figured it out before you did."

"Do you know who the father was?" I asked urgently, all these years I had thought Daniel had given me this great gift, when all this time she was someone else's, I needed to know whose she was.

"You mean you don't remember him either?" Blake said incredulously.

"No, well, I don't know." I said, my thoughts flashing back to the boy in the flashbacks, the boy with the dark eyes, the dark eyes like Morgan's.

"We don't know for sure Cam." Macey said hesitantly, as though I might break. "We have a guess, but he skipped town around the same time you did."

"Were we married?" I asked, although I was pretty sure of the answer.

"Not technically," Liz said, "But there was a ceremony."

"Do you want to know his name?" Macey asked.

"No, I want to remember it." I said, and I meant it.


	6. Favor

I lay awake in bed that night, straining to think, to remember.

"Why can't I remember?" I asked no one in particular, angry with myself for thinking I knew the answer. "Come on!"

I slammed my head against the pillow, dislodging my vibrating cell phone from my jacket pocket.

"Hello?" I answered, not expecting a call.

"Cameron Ann, thank god! Where the heck are you?" Erica basically screamed at me.

"Calm down Ricky, I'm with some people who are going to help me find Morgan." I said, "I think we used to be friends."

"And I thought we _were _friends Cam." Her voice hardened, "But friends don't ditch friends for someone better when the going gets tough, do they?"

"Erica-"

"Just forget it. Bye Cams." She hung up.

I sighed, wishing everything would just get back to normal, when my phone vibrated again.

"Hello?" I said again, slightly irritated.

"Don't say anything. We have your daughter, but we will be happy to make a trade." An ironically cheery voice said.

"What kind of trade?" I asked, my pulse quickening.

"A trade of life. Yours for hers." I decided that the voice was feminine, and, although nasal, not cheery at all.

"Ok, but why do you want me?" I asked, I wasn't anything special.

"You honestly don't know?" She laughed, "It doesn't really matter dear, you'll know soon enough."

"How do I know this is real?" I asked, "How do I know I'm not being played?"

There was a long pause followed by a soft whisper.

"Mommy?" It said.

"Morgan! Honey its okay, it's me. It's your mommy." I felt elated at the sound of her tiny voice. She was alive.

"Mommy, where are you?" She sniffled.

"It's okay honey; you're alright. I love you so much honey-"

"That's more than enough." The woman said, and I had never hated anyone more than I did at that moment. "Meet me at River's End atfive o'clocktomorrow evening. Come alone. Any questions?"

"None." I said, grinding my teeth in anticipation.

"Good. And Cammie dear, no funny business. We also have something else of yours."

There was another long pause, this time followed by a much louder response.

"No. Leave them alone." A deep voice grunted, and I gasped, the last time I had heard that voice was a week ago in my kitchen.

"You're not doing them any favors Goode. Shut up." An equally deep, although slightly deeper, voice muttered.

"Joe you don't-" The first voice started but was cut off by the woman, "Five o'clock. River's End. Come alone. Goodbye Cammie dear." The last thing I heard was a little girl cry before the line went dead.

Morgan was alive. I didn't know whether to be joyous or filled woth terror as the news sunk in.

* * *

><p>PROS ANDCONS OF FINDING OUT YOUR ONLY DAUGHTER IS ALIVE<br>A LIST BY CAMERON ANN MORGAN

PRO: She's alive.

CON: She's being held captive.

PRO: She's being busted out.

CON: She's being busted out on the condition that I will probably never get to see her again.

PRO: It sounds as though she has people looking out for her.

CON: I have no idea who these people are and one of them has broken into my house.

PRO: I'm out of cons.

CON: I'm out of pros.

* * *

><p>I sat down and pondered the list in my head, trying to think. At least now I knew why OJ guy hadn't met me last week.<p>

"Unless he's one of the bad guys." I whispered to myself, but that was stupid. Right?

The one voice that stuck in my head, however, was the older one. I could have sworn I had heard his voice somewhere before. 'You're not doing them any favors good.' he had said, what was that supposed to mean?

* * *

><p><em>"Joe-" I started, only to be cut off by the man I trust most's disappointed eyes.<em>

_"Joe it's just a baby." I said, hearing the lie in my own voice, knowing that it was never 'just a baby' when you were eighteen years old._

_"Cameron," He said, standing up from his position on my father's favorite chair, "Look at your arms."_

_Usually, when a man like Joe Solomon, a man you would hand your life to if he asked, told you to do something, you did it. No questions, no back talk, you just did it. Maybe that was why I wasn't surprised when his eyes widened as I defiantly raised my eyes to meet his, instead of the scars on my forearms given to me a summer ago._

_"I know, Joe." I said, feeling as small as a mouse. "Will you help me protect it?"_

_He paused for what seemed like an eternity before saying, "Of course."_

_I let go a breath I didn't know I was holding, tears starting to form. "Thank you."_

_Joe just shook off my gratitude and said, "Just tell me one thing, who's is it?"_

_I sighed, trying to compose myself, "Do you have to ask?"_

_"I just don't want to hear that my godson knocked up my goddaughter, I don't care if they _do _think that they're married."_

_"We are." I said, my tone not leaving any room for him to say otherwise._

_The room was once again filled with silence, I wondered if pregnancy was always filled with this much tension._

_"Does he know?" Joe asked, referring to the baby's father._

_"No, I was going to tell him tonight." I said, tugging on a loose thread on my sleeve._

_"You're not seeing him tonight." Joe said, "He's not going to know about the baby, at least not for now. You don't think straight when he's around, and I'd rather have you alive and hating me than dead and loving him."_

_"You can't do that to me Joe. I'm eighteen, I'm an adult." I said, my eyes flashing red._

_Joe wiped his hand over his eyes, looking like he'd rather say anything but what we both knew he'd have to tell me. "I told you I'd protect your baby, that's what I'll do. Its father is going to Rome tomorrow, and knowing will make him sloppy. Your baby will not grow up with a dead father. Not like you."_

_I winced as the blow struck home and felt the tears come back as I realized what I had to do._

_"He'll be here in a couple minutes," I said, "Can you get rid of him for me?"_

_Joe nodded._

_That night I cried for hours, one sentence sticking in my mind. "She doesn't love you. You're not doing her any favors by being here right now Goode."_

* * *

><p>"She's his." I whispered to myself. "She's OJ guy's."<p> 


	7. Rome

I arrived at River's End at exactlyfive o'clock, I hadn't told anyone were I was. In hindsight, I realize that it wasn't the smartest decision I had made in my short life, but the facts were simple: my Morgan needed me.

I ran over every scenario in my mind, possible ways to escape once Morgan was safe in my arms again, what we would do afterwards, what would happen to Morgan if I didn't go home with her… No, I would not let myself go there. They were coming. She was going to be alright.

Instead of following my wandering thoughts, I took in the queer meeting sight. River's End wasn't near a river, it was a music store. They had second-hand banjos in the window and an eccentric owner with long finger nails and a tuning fork sticking out of his pocket protector. It was an odd meeting place, but I suppose it had privacy. I doubted that the man with wispy white hair that ran the counter would phone the police if a fight broke out, if it came to that.

I was vaguely aware of the time passing, it was a weird talent I had, and no matter where I was or what state my mind was in I was always aware of the time.

Five minutes passed.

Ten minutes.

Thirty minutes.

_They're not coming. _I thought as panic started to settle in.

How could they not come? You didn't just take someone else's kid, promise to bring them back and then don't! Actually, most _sane _people don't take someone else's kid to begin with!

My breath was speeding up, my pulse was in my fingertips and I felt like I might hurl.

I tried to calm down, but I felt kind of woozy…

* * *

><p><em>I was clutching my seat in a 2006 Dodge minivan. My breakfast was coming up fast and Bex wasn't stopping anytime soon.<em>

_"REBECCA BAXTER, PULL THIS VEHICLE OVER THIS INSTANT!" I heard someone scream, only vaguely aware that the voice was mine._

_"Relax __Cam__; I know what I'm doing." Bex waved off my green complexion, "Darn, I keep forgetting that you drive on the right side here. You Americans are kind of crazy." I flinched as she swerved back into the right lane, almost skimming a school bus._

_"Macey, Liz, a little help please?" I said, cursing the day Bex Baxter ever got her driver's license._

_"Bex, maybe you should, erm, let Macey drive for a while?" Liz said, quietly fending for her own life. "I don't think __Cam__ is quite up to it tonight."_

_"Why not? Did you have one bag of M&M's too many __Cam__?" Bex chuckled, driving over the curb a little._

_"No, she's just pregnant." Macey said as casually as one might comment on the weather._

_"WHAT?" Bex slammed on the brakes, I could almost hear my collar bone cry out from the impact._

_"Zach knocked her up." Macey continued, ignoring my death glares._

_"How did you know?" I asked, pretending to be fascinated with my thumb nail._

_"You could call it intuition," Macey said._

_"Or the fact that you left your pregnancy test in the bathroom." Liz finished._

_"I can't believe you didn't tell us." Bex said, only kind of hiding the hurt in her voice._

_"Bex, why did you think that I wanted to go out tonight?" I said, nudging her with my left elbow._

_"To celebrate your birthday." Bex said, going for the obvious approach._

_"Well you know now." I sighed, wishing I had had the guts to tell them last week. "If it makes you feel better, Zach doesn't know."_

_"Cammie, you know you have to tell him right?" Macey said, lowering her nail file, "Because keeping this from him could cause some major relationship boo-boo's."_

_"It's done. He's in Rome, I might not get to see him again." I said, tears starting to swell. I really hated hormones._

_My friends all let out a sympathetic sigh, they knew what was in Rome. They knew why people linked to me disappeared there._

_"Do you love him?" Liz asked, her big innocent eyes questioning mine. She had never seen what love can do._

_"I can't," I said, the tears starting to fall, "Everyone I love dies in Rome."_

* * *

><p>When I came to, I found myself in another unfamiliar setting. The walls and floor were bare, save for a couple blankets, and the whole place reeked of drafts and old vegetables. My body ached where it touched the cold floor, but I felt something soft under my head.<p>

"Erica?" I said, trying to lift my head, "Bex?"

"Shh," Strong hands brushed my hair out of my face and helped me into a sitting position, they were nice hands. Calouses covered the palms and there was dirt and some sort of dried liquid (blood?) coating the finger nails, but they were still nice hands. They were gentle but executed strength, rough from hard work but also brought a sort of softness with them. They were decidedly male, they seemed familiar."It's alright Cammie, you are going to be alright."

I recognized the voice too, not from a flashback, but from yesterday over the phone.

"It's you." I said, getting a good look at a man who was neither familiar nor unfamiliar, a part of me knew I should be elated at the fact that I recognized someone from my past, but at the same time something about him was off, blury even.

"Do you know who I am Cammie?" He said, taking a step back and looking down at me expectantly, a teacher waiting for an answer.

"Yes," I said, working into a standing position so I could look him in the eye.

"Do you know where we are?" He asked me softly, as if I might break.

"Rome." I said, I didn't know what made the word leave my mouth, but the second it was out there, I knew it was true.

"Yes." He said gravely, wiping his hand over his eyes. He looked old, way more aged than four years should do. His skin sagged where there was an absense of muscle and he could have seriously used a shave, but the biggest difference was his eyes, where there used to be confidence and strength, now sagged a hopelessness I could not comprehend.

The man in front of me was not Joe Solomon.

_What happened to you Joe?_


	8. Happy

"What was your address in third grade?" Another question popped up at me. Another question I couldn't answer.

"It was definently in D.C..." I trailed off, frustrated that such a huge hunk of my life was still a mystery to me. I was starting to wonder if I had ever even existed at all or if I was just a stand-in while the real Cammie was off on vacation, sending me little clues to who she was once in a while.

"Town house, condo or appartment?" My questioner said, raising an eyebrow, when he questioned me like this I almost could see the old him in his eyes.

"Condo, I'm almost possitive." I said, bracing myself to be told I was wrong. Again.

"Appartment B32, 15345 Welch Plaza, 20015 Washington D.C." He said without missing a beat, it was kind of creepy how much he knew about me.

"And you know this..." I said, implying said thought creepiness.

"Because I lived there too, you know." He said, implying unsaid obviousness.

"Oh." I mentaly slapped myself.

"I'd say that's enough for today," Joe said, arranging some blankets in a sort of make-shift pillow.

"That makes two of us." I said, curling into a ball facing the door.

"And Cammie," Joe said, turning to face me, "Don't get too frustrated. I know you'll be back with us soon enough."

"I know." I sighed, "I just wished soon enough was sooner."

* * *

><p><em>I was eight. My mom sat on my left side, and my dad sat on my right, I thought I was the luckiest kid in the world, if I had only known what was in store for me.<em>

_"Where were you yesterday Mommy?" I asked, couriosity making my usually small eyes grow to the size of softballs._

_"Mommy had to work." She said, smiling. I always thought it was funny when my parents talked about themselves in third person, but Joe thought that it was annoying so they didn't do it often._

_"Did the bad guys get away?" I asked, giggling at our old joke._

_"Nope. Your mommy just looked at them with no make-up, they were so scared, they handcuffed themmselves." My daddy said, making scary monster shapes with his hands._

_I giggled until I saw the look on my mommy's face, I knew that Daddy was in big trouble._

_"Me without make-up is far less scary than you without make-up Mathew." My mommy had that look in her eye she had when she said something naughty, and my daddy fell for it every time._

_"Now Rachel, you aren't implying that I wear make-up are you?" Daddy said with a sour look on his face._

_"No, I'm just letting you know how gross you look to the rest of us." Mommy smiled, making Daddy grin mischieviously._

_I couldn't remember the last time I was so happy._

* * *

><p>I was awakened by the sound of yelling outside the door. I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes and quickly focused on what was happening, taking special care to store the previous night's dream in my unstable memory, this was one moment I did not want to forget.<p>

"Just let me see her!" A mascualine voice yelled from somewhere to the far right.

"Catherine, I need a sedative!" A much rougher voice called, sounding flustered and weak.

There were sounds of obvious fighting, a gunshot and suddenly, silence. I feared for who ever was on the other side of that door, something inside me knew that the 'her' that the young man was referring to was me, and I also knew that in a gun fight, the person fighting hand-to-hand always loses.

I said a silent prayer for the person on the other side of that door, one sentence going through my head: _Everyone I love dies in Rome._


	9. Choice

After a lot of swearing, grunting and what I assumed was sedating, the door to the room Joe and I were in finaly opened. I watched from under my eyelashes as a portly man with fresh cuts on his sweaty face and arms dumped something onto the floor just inside the door and took out a syringe. I had to bite down on my lip to keep from screaming as he injected a clear liquid into Joe, causing him to go limp, and dragged him out of the room.

I waited until the portly man's footsteps had completely faded to open my eyes and inch over to were the object he had discarded into the room was dumped.

The first thing I registered was that the lump was moving, a lot. The second was that it was probably a person. Then I realized that if it was a person, he (I was assuming it was a he) would probably run out of air soon. I un-did the tape keeping the course bag on his head and gasped when I saw his face.

It was OJ guy, but it was not the same man I had stumbled across in my kitchen. His left eye was swollen shut, and there was a deep gash going across his right cheek. He smiled at me, although I don't know how he managed to considering the amount of pain he must have been in _without_ using his facial muscles.

"Cammie." He said, reaching for my face but changing his mind at the last second, his smile disintegrating as fast as it had come. "You still don't remember me."

It wasn't a question, it was a statement. I looked into his good eye and remorse surged through my ever fiber as I realized who this guy really was. I had been in love with him for pretty much my whole life, he was the father of my baby and if it hadn't been for my _accident_ - whatever that was- I probably would have spent the rest of my life with him. And yet as I looked into his face, I felt nothing. I didn't even know his first name when he probably knew ever single thing there is to know about me, and I hated myself for it.

"I remember parts of you." I said, trying to smile but letting out a quiet sob instead.

"Oh, Cam." He said, letting himself reach for me. "It's alright Cam, you're alright." He whispered. "You'll be fine." I didn't know if the last part was for my benefit or for his, but whichever way he meant it, it only made me sob harder.

I couldn't tell you how long we stayed like that, him holding me while I cried. I cried for Morgan, I cried for Joe, I cried for the lost things, but mostly, I just cried.

Somewhere along the way, my mind started to register that the man holding me was still just a stranger to me and I tensed. He seemed to know what I was feeling and let me go. I wanted to thank him but I realized I still didn't know his name.

"It's Zach." He said. "My name is Zach Goode."

"How did you-?" I said, wondering how he could know exactly what I was thinking when my own best friend couldn't even pick up on my moods.

"Your fingers." He said, "When you what to know something your pinkie twitches." He lifted up his own little finger and demonstrated a twitching motion.

"Wow, I didn't-" Then I noticed his neck. Burns, burns no person should have survived, and I had a feeling they didn't end there. Here he'd been comforting me when he was probably dying, though you'd never be able to tell by talking to him.

"Take off your shirt." I said, shifting so I was knealing by his side.

"Wow, Gallagher Girl, and I thought you didn't remember me." He smirked, easily sliding around the subject and making my cheeks burn.

"Zach, you're hurt. Don't try to joke around it. You're dying aren't you?" I tried to suppress the familiar surge that meant I was blacking out when I said his name, after weeks of trying to grasp at the edges of memories with Joe I couldn't help but be angry when they chose now to show up.

"I'm fading." I said, falling back so I was sitting Indian style. "Take off your shirt."

The second he did, I wished he didn't, it was like looking at a piece of raw meat, the ragged pieces of skin left untouched formed a gory patch-work against his chest. Only now did I realize how hard breathing was for him, the friction from his shirt would have made a normal person unable to even think about anything else, but then, I realized, Zach Goode was not a normal person.

"Oh God," was the last thing I said before the memory overtook me.

* * *

><p><em>It was sweltering hot, I was sweating more than I should have been, but I was so cold. The cut I now only know as a scar was fresh, but I couldn't think about it, thinking about it only brought pain. Pain, pain , pain. It hurt so bad, sometimes I couldn't remember my name. If it didn't stop soon, I knew I would die. How could I live? How could anyone endure this much pain and live?<em>

_I saw the doctor for the first time during my third week in the hospital. I didn't know how I knew I was in a hospital, but I assumed I must of been. Where else would I be with all these tubes in my arm that made me sleep, I loved the sleep. Although it was fitfull and filled with painful images, it was still better than being awake._

_"Is my baby alive?" I said, wincing as the shaking began again, causing friction against my wound that was still so fresh._

_"Yes." She said, taking my good hand. I thought I saw a tear in her eye, but it may have just been the fever._

_"How?" I wondered out loud, how could anything so delicate and wonderful survive in a place as horrible as my own body?_

_"I don't know," She said, "it must be made out of the same stuff as its mother."_

_I smiled, looking down at my anything but flat stomach. It was my one joy, in this horrible place, my little piece of Zach right there inside me._

_"What is your name?" The doctor asked me, a perfectly valid question._

_"Andrea." I said, "Andrea Goode."_

_"Well, Andrea Goode, do you have any family or friends that you want me to call?" She said._

_"No." I said, and a tear escaped because I meant it. That was when I started to lose my memory, it wasn't an injury, it was a choice, a choice I made for my baby, my little piece of Zach._

_When I left that hospital, I didn't just leave Andrea Goode behind, I left Cammie Morgan too._


	10. Phone

When I woke up I was sobbing. Again. I couldn't believe how weak I was being. Especially in front of Zach, this stranger who had probably been through things ten times worse than I could ever possibly imagine. What made it worse was that instead of telling me to man up, like I would have preferred, he was actually _comforting _me. It made me sick.

I made me sick.

I suppose the general knowledge of what had caused me to lose my memory was enough to make me snap, but, oddly enough, that wasn't why I was sobbing. Actually, knowing made me stronger. Suddenly, instead of the tragic, weak life I had thought I had lived, I found that I was a survivor. For the first time in years I finally knew who I had been. I had been a fighter.

What had me crying was the poor girl left behind after the warrior she used to be took off. Now that I knew _why _I had lost my memory, shouldn't the actual _memories _come back? Nope. I wasn't that lucky.

I spent the whole rest of the day like that, alternating between beating myself up for being weak and beating myself up for not remembering anything. I took a little break every now and then to watch Zach sleep. His wounds were worse than ever, and I feared that he'd die soon if our captors didn't do anything. I can't bring myself to think of Zach as anything but my jail buddy, even though I knew he had been my best friend. Even though I knew I had loved him.

Now that I knew he was Morgan's father, I couldn't help but see the similarities between them. The way he slept with his eyes half a millimeter open. How you could see one of his dimples even when he wasn't smiling. The way he always seemed to know something I didn't. The little things.

We took turns sleeping in the days that followed, always waiting for something to change. Waiting for someone to save us.

Once, on the rare occasion that we were both awake, I asked him about his family. He just looked at me with sad eyes and told me I wouldn't want to know. I asked him another question.

"Zach, tell me about you and me." I said, "What were we like?"

For a while he just stared at me, with those dark, sad eyes. Then, after what seemed like a very long time, he spoke.

"We were really stupid." He whispered, "But we were in love."

"I wish I remember what it was like to be in love." I sighed, remembering Daniel. That wasn't love.

"What about the father of your kid?" Zach said, sounding bitter, "Must have felt something for him."

"I did," I said, I had forgotten that Zach still didn't know exactly how big a role he had played in my daughter's life. It hurt to hear him refer to our daughter as 'your kid', even if he didn't know she was his.

"What happened?" Zach asked, not looking me in the eye.

"I don't remember exactly." I said, and he grunted. "But I think he left for Rome the night after I found out I was pregnant."

"Rome?" He asked.

"Everyone I love ends up in Rome." I said bitterly.

"He was a spy?" Zach asked, the same time I said, "He was you."

"What?!"

* * *

><p><em>Gallagher Academy for Exceptional Young Women. I was <em>finally _here._

_Now I would _finally _fit in._

_I smiled to myself as my limo traveled down interstate eighty. It wasn't really my limo of course, it was just our cover. To the outside world, Gallagher was just a school for snobby rich girls who were bored with their lives. They didn't know the truth. They didn't know it was really a school for _spies.

_I pulled out the cell phone Abby had given me before I left. She knew I wouldn't be able to use it on school grounds, but she knew that I, being me, would find a way to sneak out and call her._

_My aunt is a _very _bad influence._

_I dialed Zach's number and held my breath until he picked up. I just _had _to talk to him before he left for Blackthorne, Gallagher's brother school. I hadn't seen him since May before school got out. My parents had to go on a mission to Italy and both Abby and Joe were on missions of their own, so I got shipped to my grandparents out in Nebraska a month earlier than usual. I hadn't talked to him since._

_"Hey Gallagher girl." He said, he sounded tired, not like himself._

_"Zach what's wrong?" I asked, sitting up a little straighter, in our world, tired meant something was going wrong._

_"Nothing." He said. "Just excited for school is all."_

_"Zach, don't you dare lie to me." I said, my voice dead serious._

_There was a long pause on his end before he answered. __"Cam, It's your dad." Zach said, his voice was strained. I had a feeling what he was telling was _very _need-to-know. "He's gone MIA again."_

_My heart dropped into my stomach._

_"It's just another false alarm, right?" I said, my voice viod of any emotion. "This has happened before."_

_"I don't think so Cam." Zach said. "He's missed three call-ins. I'm so sorry Cammie, but I gotta go."_

_"You're with Joe." I said. It wasn't a question. Some things you just know._

_"Yeah, I'm with Joe." He said, his voice was quiet._

_"But you can't tell me anything else." I said, already knowing the answer._

_"I'm so sorry Cammie." He said again, "But I'll be there in a couple weeks. We'll talk then."_

_"Okay. Bye." I hung up before he could say anything else._

_Suddenly my first year at Gallagher didn't seem all that exciting._

* * *

><p>I hummed to myself as I picked some dead skin off my thumb. I hadn't talked to Zach in days. I just couldn't believe that everyone in my life had been a spy.<p>

Abby was a spy.

Joe was a spy.

My parents were spies.

Bex was a spy.

Macey was a spy.

Liz was a spy.

Zach was a spy.

Even _I _was a spy.

Wow, I felt stupid.

I guess it all made sense. The traveling, the 'missions', the dying. Now I felt _really _stupid. Everything in the flashbacks had made perfect sense at the time, I didn't see anything out of the ordinary. I guess it was because for me, it _was _the ordinary. I just didn't know it.

A knock on the wall snapped me out of my thoughts. I was just going to ignore it, but Zach had other plans.

"Cammie, behind me, NOW!" He yelled, getting up with an effort and moving to the opposite side of the room. I did what he said and was right at his side when the wall exploded.

"Whoopsie Dasie." An extremely southern voice whispered.

"I told you you used to much gun powder!" An equally British one countered.

A pair of super-model legs emerged from the smoke.

"Hey McHenry." Zach said with a smirk.

"Hey Zach." She winked. "Sorry it took so long, but your mom is _not _a very nice lady."

Zach chuckled darkly. "Yeah, she tends to like to shoot at people."

"I suggest some serious counciling." Macey said, strapping me and Zach to some sort of harness. "But thanks to her, we were able to blow this very nice hole in the wall. Hold on tight, time to get you lovebirds out of here."

And before I could say balogna, we were in the air.


	11. Neverland

_Another sharp cry penetrated the thin wall between us. I tried not to flinch, but I couldn't stop myself. Not after the days of unrest, the weeks of torment. _

_I imagined a tiny switch flipping somewhere as my eye lids slowly flickered, the slight change in my posture that indicated, yes, I had heard him scream, yes, I know what they're doing to him, that only brought him more pain._

_It was my fault._

_If I were stronger, more disciplined, he'd be fine. He'd be safe. Or as safe as anyone like us could be._

* * *

><p>"Cammie?" A voice tried to bring me back from the memory, but I still sunk deeper each second. I felt an air of weightlessness, the sensation of falling, it felt oddly familiar...<p>

"Cam!"

* * *

><p><em>I shuddered in relief as I felt his touch on my face. I knew that they only allowed us this time together so it would be easier to break me, but it was worth it. I swear it was worth it. <em>

_He was alive. He was mine._

_"Zach..." I whispered, clinging to him, bringing him closer, making sure he was real._

_"Shh" He soothed me, stroking my hair, breathing me in._

_"I love you so much." I barely breathed, knowing that they were watching, but also knowing that every time I saw him might be the last, "Zach, if they don't find us by tomorrow"_

_"I know Cam," He whispered, his lips didn't even twitch, "Off to Neverland."_

_We had made a plan in case Joe never found us, a crazy, awful plan. A plan that had one of two possible outcomes, both ending in escape. _

_My internal clock was a little fuzzy, but I knew that time was running out._

_Zach and I both knew how this game, this terrible deadly game that we had both chosen to be players in, ended, and we knew that one way or another, we would have to make our escape._

_As I looked into his eyes, those eyes, I knew that our time had come._

_I was three months pregnant. _

_I felt a tear fall onto my cheek, it wasn't mine. I looked up and saw a sight I had only ever seen once in my life before. Zach Goode was crying. Strong, fearless, arrogant Zach. _

_And in that moment, I knew that he was mine._

_"A kiss for luck?" I asked. He smirked, that smirk, and pulled me in slowly..._

_"I'll make you safe Cammie." He whispered, "I swear."_

_That was my last kiss from Zach Goode._

* * *

><p>I woke up in a helicopter. I didn't know how I knew, but I was certain that that's where I was.<p>

Three sets of eyes looked down at me, two blue and one brown. Knowing, alert, I knew those eyes. Those were the eyes of Gallagher Girls.

"I want to know everything." I said, "Start from the beginning and leave nothing out."


End file.
